Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Japan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Soft Machine to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Red Krayola,
Liliput,
Scott Walker,
The Buckinghams,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cramps,
Black Sheep,
Darondo,
Nik Kershaw,
Basic Channel,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Stooges,
Lebanon Hanover,
Panda Bear,
Angry Samoans,
The Skatalites,
Black Moon,
Grandmaster Flash,
June of 44,
DJ Style,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Blues Magoos,
Mr. Review,
Marvin Gaye,
T. Rex,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Shuggie Otis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Al Stewart,
Chris Corsano,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Dark Day,
Tim Buckley,
Leonard Cohen,
Urselle,
The Real Kids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crash Course in Science,
Harry Pussy,
Oblivians,
Throbbing Gristle,
Goldenarms,
Organ,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gun Club,
Surgeon,
ABC,
Flash Fearless,
Sarah Menescal,
Maurizio,
This Heat,
The Dave Clark Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.